


You Were My Versailles At Night

by doctormccoy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Birthday Sex, Bottom!Bucky, Explicit Consent, First Time post TWS, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Porn with some idea of a plot, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Recovery, Semi Established Relationship, Steve and Bucky: Gold Medalists of the Pining Olympics, sex with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:05:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3175592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctormccoy/pseuds/doctormccoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve never much cared to celebrate his birthday until Bucky made them worth looking forward to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Were My Versailles At Night

**Author's Note:**

> "It was the fourth of July,  
> You and I were, you and I were fire, fire, fireworks.  
> I said I’d never miss you,  
> But I guess you’ll never know when the pages are all burned.  
> Going way back home on the fourth of July."  
> \- ["Fourth of July"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1j4Pf228vhE), Fall Out Boy
> 
> Honestly the entire purpose of this fic is just because I'm in love with this song, which is clearly about Steve and Bucky, and felt the need to write a story to go along with it. Forgive any mistakes I wrote this on like four hours of sleep.

There’s one day of the year that Steve can have the only thing he’s ever wanted.

One day where he can take and hold what he craves above all else, without fear of punishment or reproach.

He remembers when it all began as clearly as if it were only yesterday. When he started letting Bucky slide between the scratchy cotton of his sheets and press him back into the creaky mattress. When “Happy Birthday, Steve” carried the expectation of needy kisses and the slick glide of sweat soaked skin. 

Steve always wonders why Bucky lets him have these stolen moments that end with the rising of the sun the next morning. Why he always slips so easily into Steve’s bed and heart and gives Steve everything of himself he has to offer, before taking it all away again in the span of a few hours.

It starts as a joke, he’s pretty sure. Bucky, all smooth, leonine swagger declaring that if Steve won’t let Bucky take him out for a night on the town then he’d just have to give Steve all he could ever deserve on his birthday himself. Steve sputtering for air and fumbling over denials even as Bucky leans down to kiss him with far more hunger than Steve thought to expect. 

The first time isn’t nearly as slick and practiced as Steve had anticipated. For all of his expectations of Bucky’s experience, Bucky actually seems to be just as nervous and lost as Steve is. His kisses are clumsy and needy and his hands are shaking when they undo Steve’s belt and unhook his suspenders, betraying the anxiety simmering just beneath the surface of that cocksure grin. 

He kisses every bony, pale inch of Steve before he reaches under the bed for a small tub of Vaseline and Steve remembers with embarrassing clarity his confusion over why they might need such a thing. His eyes had gone so wide when Bucky flashed him an uncharacteristically shy smile and slid his own hand between his thighs to awkwardly press slick fingers inside himself. Steve can still feel the way Bucky’s body had gone shivery and weak kneed at the pressure of Steve’s cock against his entrance, sparking pleasure like fireworks beneath his skin. His hands, though bigger than they were back then, remember the sturdy angles of Bucky’s hips. 

When Steve tried to ask about it the next morning Bucky grinned and shrugged it off, insisting that it was a special birthday gift and nothing more. Steve doesn’t admit he likes the faint limp in Bucky’s step that lingers throughout the 5th of July. 

The next year brings Bucky to his bed again and this time Steve is prepared to make every second worth it. This time he’s the one to press oil slick fingers into the tight clench of Bucky’s body, bringing him to the brink of orgasm more times than he can count before finally replacing it with his cock, plowing the need stricken man beneath him into the squeaky bed while a storm of fireworks and shouts of patriotic excitement echo outside the window. Bucky laughs afterwards that he didn’t realize Steve had it in him to be that aggressive in bed and Steve rolls over to show him the true meaning of the word. 

He takes great satisfaction in the bruises he knows linger under Bucky’s clothing when Bucky goes to work the next morning.

It happens again the next year, and the year after that. The year before Bucky ships out to Europe Steve convinces Bucky to trade places and Bucky supports his weight with ease as he bounces Steve on his cock against the door of their tiny apartment. Steve spends the entirety of the next day trying to recreate on paper the beautiful way Bucky’s face melts with pleasure, the sweat slick comma of his hair against his forehead and the kiss bruised flush of his mouth formed around Steve’s name while a storm of colorful sparks and fire close around the moment. 

Neither of them push for anything more. Even on Bucky’s last day stateside Steve smiles and sends him off to be with his girls, turning away from the friend he wouldn’t see again for two years.

Steve’s next birthday is spent singing to a crowd in the capital, parading across the stage with a Bucky sized hole in his now sturdier chest. The birthday after that trying to entertain a crowd of exhausted, miserable soldiers in the south of France. 

His heart might be stronger than it ever was but when he hears of Bucky’s capture and presumed death Steve is convinced it stops beating. It’s easy to charge into battle, then, because without Bucky there is no Steve and only when he sees Bucky’s eyes flutter open on Zola’s experimentation table does Steve remember how to breathe again. 

Steve and Bucky tumble into the semi privacy of his tent and Bucky lets Steve have him even though the aching chill of winter is approaching and the 4th of July is far behind them. Steve takes every inch of Bucky that he’s willing to give. They lay curled together with legs and fingers tangled, trading soft kisses in the unjudging quiet of the early morning.

The next night Steve takes Bucky to the bar with the rest of the men he wants to become part of his elite squad of soldiers and introduces him to Peggy, who has become a close friend in the years since he joined the army. When Steve tries to kiss Bucky in the dark privacy of his tent Bucky pushes him away with a smile, shaking his head. 

Steve remembers the hurt and the confusion more than anything else. Remembers the shape of Bucky’s back as he retreats from Steve’s tent, hunched forward as if to protect himself from some invisible foe. 

When Bucky falls from the train after saving Steve’s life it’s as if all the light and color has gone from the world. He stares into his second empty bottle of whiskey and tries not to remember, though his photographic memory continues to betray him, the shape of terror and despair on Bucky’s face. 

Bucky was Steve’s first, his only, and his last. Steve knows the history books assume that Peggy was his girl, that they would have gotten married once the War was over, had he not plunged his plane into the ocean. Maybe they’re not entirely wrong and he can imagine a life where he could have been happy with Peggy, given the chance.

But in this life, a life where aliens now invade New York and Bucky is dead and Peggy is an elderly woman who has already lived out her years without Steve, there is no place for him.

Discovering Bucky was still alive came with more pain than joy and Steve often finds himself wondering whether it’s more selfish to be happy to see his best friend once more, or to be grief stricken and wishing that Bucky had died in peace back in the mountains of Russia. 

But Bucky is here, now, whether Steve likes it or not, complete with decades of abuse, torture, degradation, and trauma, and it’s time for Steve to take care of Bucky, now.

It takes almost a year to convince the Winter Soldier to relinquish his hold on the man once called Bucky Barnes. Natasha finds them a house in DC and they take things one day at a time in the secluded safety of their new home. Some days Steve wakes up and Bucky is standing in the kitchen making eggs and hash browns by the stove, a subdued smile on his face when he turns to see Steve is watching him.

Other days Steve comes out of the bedroom to the sight of the Winter Soldier staring icily at him from the living room, his array of knives Steve isn’t supposed to let him have spread out across the coffee table to be cleaned. 

Steve takes Bucky to regular meetings with a woman named Angela who has a patient smile and security clearance. Bucky teaches Steve the breathing exercises he learns from her for when he has a panic attack. Steve figures out which foods trigger bad memories and what words and phrases to avoid. 

A car backfires in the street and both of them drop to the floor in the middle of making dinner and after several long, tense seconds of staring at each other in wide eyed shock they both melt into easy laughter. Steve shows Bucky how to make chicken fried steak and tries not to shiver with happiness at the way their shoulders touch with how close Bucky is standing beside him. 

Steve accepts that Bucky may never remember what they once had and, quite possibly, has no desire to ever share anything of that nature with Steve ever again. Even if Bucky paraded an army of pretty girls through their home he would learn to live with it for the sake of quiet smiles and the familiar shape of laughter in Bucky’s face.

But Bucky, if he has any interest in returning to that part of the world again, doesn’t show it. There are quiet nights spent on their couch watching marathons of _Star Trek_ and the shy, unsure brush of pinky fingers in the space between their thighs. 

Bucky has a nightmare one night of Alexander Pierce and cruel hands around his throat and in his hair, punishing him for a failed mission. He fits easily against Steve’s chest like he’s always belonged in the space between his arms and never leaves again. Steve doesn’t admit he also rests easier wrapped around Bucky, his face buried in the soft curls of dark hair at the back of Bucky’s neck.

Memories return to Bucky in waves as his brain recovers from the abuse Hydra had inflicted upon it, both of his years as the Winter Soldier and his life before as James Buchanan Barnes. If he remembers anything of the times where he and Steve have tumbled into bed together then he gives no indication of it. Steve is just happy to see Bucky learning how to be alive again.

Steve’s first birthday after the fall of SHIELD slipped by without notice, wasted chasing a stale lead on the Winter Soldier in the middle of the Nebraska wilderness. Steve’s second birthday is spent at a comfortable distance from an edgy Winter Soldier who has only just begun the steps towards recovery, staring blankly at the book in his hands without actually absorbing any of the information. 

Steve wakes up on the morning of his third birthday to the shy nudge of a mouth just a hair’s breadth from his own and he opens his eyes to see Bucky’s face pillowed opposite him, eyes glinting nervously.

“Morning, Buck,” Steve murmurs, unable to help the shiver that shoots down his spine when their lips brush together with the words. He keeps himself painfully still after that, daring to hope but desperate not to push for more than Bucky is willing to give, and nearly melts with relief when the tiniest flicker of a smile quirks at the corner of Bucky’s mouth.

“Happy birthday, Stevie.”

Steve is still reeling from just how familiarly wonderful those words sound in his ears even when Bucky closes the last scant inch of space between them for a dry, cautious kiss. When Steve’s mind doesn’t catch up quickly enough to reciprocate the kiss Bucky pulls back, fear starting to creep its way into the confused furrow of his brows, metal fingers withdrawing from where they’d been spread across Steve’s chest just above his heart. 

Before Bucky can feel even the slightest bit of doubt Steve’s hand shoots out to tangle in his shaggy hair and tugs him back in for a clumsy kiss, relieved when Bucky melts easily against Steve’s body. They trade easy, searching kisses until the sun comes up and Steve’s jaw aches, only stopping at the rumbling sound of Bucky’s stomach asking for breakfast. Steve isn’t prepared for the way Bucky sits on his lap at the table and feeds him pieces of bacon and chunks of pineapple but he happily licks away grease and juice from his fingers, only hoping that Bucky can’t hear the way his heart is thudding painfully against his ribs. 

Bucky follows him into the shower and Steve whines pathetically at how good Bucky’s hands feel as he scrubs shampoo through Steve’s hair, fingernails digging into his scalp. He’s pleasantly surprised when Bucky’s hands slide down to his hips and tug them flush against one another, shuddering at the hot press of Bucky’s cock beside his own. Steve kisses him and sneaks a hand between their bodies to wrap around the red flushed lengths of their erections, jerking them both off to a rapid but satisfying orgasm, and watches the evidence wash down the drain. It’s the first time Steve’s had sex since the fumbled, desperate fucking in his tent after Bucky’s rescue and his mind is swimming with a miasma of thoughts.

Mostly concerns that Bucky isn’t ready for this, and that he’s only doing this out of some remembered pseudo obligation to Steve on his birthday. 

He forces himself to calm down when Bucky starts to rock their hips together again, shivering at the flushed, needy expression on the other man’s face.

“Buck, why are you doing this?” Steve asks in a voice he swears isn’t shaking, gripping Bucky’s waist and putting some space between their bodies. Bucky just looks confused again and Steve is distracted by the swollen puffiness of his mouth from their morning spent kissing in bed. 

“Because we always do this on your birthday and I have a lot of birthdays to catch up on,” Bucky explains as if it’s obvious, clearly not at all pleased by the way Steve turns the water off and guides them both out of the shower. Bucky is silent while Steve gets them both dried and Steve tries to ignore the painful throb of his heart in his chest. 

He sits down on the edge of the bed beside Bucky, feeling slightly more in control of himself once they’re both wearing sweatpants and the heat has cooled slightly from beneath his skin. 

“Buck, I don’t… I can’t have you doing that because you think you owe me or something. I can’t… that’s not how I want things to be between us,” Steve murmurs, staring down at his hands clasped on his lap and feeling like a coward for not looking at the man sitting quietly beside him. 

“Then how do you want things to be between us?” comes Bucky’s steady voice, forcing Steve’s gaze away from his knees when he reaches out to cautiously rest a hand on top of Steve’s, as if afraid of spooking a cornered animal. 

Steve sits up a little straighter at that and wrinkles his nose at that, wondering, exactly, what the answer is to that question. 

“Nothing more than you’re willing to give me, Bucky,” he says finally, chancing a glance up at the man sitting next to him and unprepared for the amusement creasing at the corners of Bucky’s eyes.

“And what if I’m willing to give you everything?” Bucky asks in a low hum, rubbing his thumb in a steady circle over the back of Steve’s hand, “What if I’ve wanted to give you everything since the first time you let me be selfish?”

Steve cocks his head at that, trying to comprehend the meaning of those words, and doesn’t dare to acknowledge the painful hope rising in his throat.

“What if I’m willing to give you everything, too? What if I’ve always been willing to give you everything?” Steve whispers back, biting his tongue when Bucky gives him a painfully familiar smirk, eyebrow arching up in silent assessment.

“Then I would say maybe we should stop wasting any more time than we already have on being too stupid and scared to be honest with each other,” Bucky sighs, cupping cool metal fingers against the back of Steve’s neck, brushing over skin still warm from the shower. 

Not needing any more persuading, Steve surges forward to kiss Bucky with such intensity it leaves them both breathless, pinning him backwards onto the bed with a heartbroken little noise of want. Steve has wanted nothing else but Bucky for most of his life and now that he finally has permission not just from Bucky but from himself he knows exactly the ways in which he wants to have the beautiful man spread out beneath him, whose grey eyes are filled with laughter and patient love. 

Sweatpants are shucked off onto the floor with ease and Steve muffles a whimper into the crook of Bucky’s neck at how good it feels to have their bodies twined together again with nothing between them and decades of wasted pining behind them. Bucky kisses him like a drowning man coming up for the first breath of air and pulls Steve down between his legs, their hips slotting together as if they were two matching pieces of a puzzle. Steve always knew he was made for Bucky and now he knows Bucky always believed that, too. 

“Loved you ever since we were boys and you pulled me out from under a pile of big kids and punched Horace Bellsworth right in the nose,” Steve moans against Bucky’s mouth, stifling a snort of amusement when Bucky eagerly presses a bottle of lotion acquired from God knows where into Steve’s palm, thighs spreading easily at the insistent grind of Steve’s cock against the crease of his groin. 

“Loved you ever since you looked at me with your face all messed up and your nose crooked and bleeding and insisted you had them on the ropes and you didn’t need no dumb jerk coming to your rescue like you were some dame,” Bucky laughs around a kiss, one hand holding fast to short blond hair so Steve can’t pull away from the slick press of mouths Bucky needs more than life and the other sliding down to slyly grope at a delightfully round ass cheek.

Steve yelps with surprise and pinches at one of Bucky’s nipples in revenge, pleased at the breathless moan this wrenches from the man beneath him. Bucky’s nipples were always incredibly sensitive and Steve’s almost relieved to see that some things still remain the same, even after seventy years. 

“Couldn’t believe it when you pushed me back into the bed and started undressing us both. I was sure it was all a dream and I remember praying to God to never wake up again if it was,” Steve whispers along the crease of scarring that separated Bucky’s metal arm from the rest of his body. Bucky shivers and tips his head back with a shattered sound, his body opening up easily to the slick press of a finger against his entrance. 

“Couldn’t believe you.. that you let me do it. I was sure you’d turn me away in disgust and all I could think was ‘Please, God, just let me have this one time and I swear I’ll be satisfied. Let me have this one chance to be selfish, just for a little while,’,” Bucky breathed, clenching around Steve’s finger when it crooks inside him and brushes just shy of where he knows it’ll feel best. Steve kisses him until they’re both panting, slipping a second digit in alongside the first and rubbing at the slick inner walls, loosening them up in a silent promise of more. 

“You’re the first and only person I’ve ever been with in my entire life,” Steve murmurs and is wholly unprepared for the way Bucky buries his face in his throat and murmurs, “You, too.”

Steve feels as if his entire body has short circuited and he withdraws his fingers from inside Bucky so he can plant his hands on either side of Bucky’s shoulders, holding himself over the other man with an expression of hesitant, hopeful surprise. 

“But all those girls,” he mumbles lamely, going willingly when Bucky reaches up to pull Steve back down to lie on top of him, cocks rubbing deliciously together in the damp heat between their hips. 

“I did what was expected of a guy my age. I took pretty girls out dancing and to the ice cream shop and the beach. I never kissed any of them except on the cheek and I never went home with any of them, or took any of them home with me. You were it for me, Stevie. You were always my endgame and the only one I ever wanted,” Bucky admits in a quiet voice, pressing a kiss to the sensitive pulse point behind Steve’s ear. 

Steve whimpers softly and turns his head to kiss along the proud curve of Bucky’s jaw, licking his way back into his mouth with a broken sounding moan. 

“But you turned me away. During the War you turned me away like you didn’t want me anymore,” Steve whispers, unable to look at the twist of sadness on Bucky’s face. He relaxes when skin warmed metal fingers start to stroke through his dark blond hair, soothed by the gentle touch of Bucky, who isn’t pushing him away this time. 

“I thought you didn’t want _me_ anymore. How could you, with someone amazing like Peggy Carter around, who actually deserved the you that marches behind enemy lines and rescues four hundred men without a second thought as to his own life. I was just a kid who got drafted into the War and spent most of it scared shitless and just trying to survive and you were Captain America. You were a hero who deserved more than a coward named Bucky Barnes.”

Steve shakes his head and slips his hands into the hollows behind Bucky’s knees, pushing them upwards until he’s spread open beneath him, entrance still slick and shiny with lotion and clenching in anticipation for what Bucky knows is about to come. Steve guides himself to press against Bucky’s hole and whines when the tight heat begins to envelop his cock, forcing himself to go slow so he doesn’t cause the man under him any more pain than he already has. 

“I love Peggy in a different way than I love you. She's my friend and we care for one another, but not in that way. And Captain America is the hero. Steve Rogers is just a boy from Brooklyn who was too stupid to run away from a fight and spent most of the War scared shitless and just trying to survive,” Steve sighs against Bucky’s ear, going completely still when he bottoms out inside of Bucky, muffling a moan at the hot clench of his ass around Steve’s cock. 

It’s overwhelming after years of self-imposed celibacy and loneliness, born from the assumption that he was now alone in the world. Bucky’s chuckling softly in the crook of Steve’s shoulder, thighs gripping tight around the angular narrowness of his waist.

“Then I guess we’re both just two stupid kids who needed seventy odd years to get out of their own way and learn how to be happy,” Bucky murmurs, massaging his fingers against the back of Steve’s neck despite the way he’s shuddering with need beneath Steve, “And if you don’t start fucking me properly, soon, I’m gonna throw you down and do it myself.”

Steve laughs and there are sparks of delight in the comfortable safety of their bedroom, born from Bucky’s cry of pleasure when Steve does as ordered, drawing back just enough to slam back inside of him. He can distantly hear the crack and boom of real fireworks in the growing darkness outside but it’s hard to care about anything except the man writhing with pleasure and want beneath him. 

“Gonna spend the rest of our lives fucking you properly, Buck,” Steve teases in a breathless huff, hoping their bed is sturdy as he snaps his hips against Bucky’s ass, digging bruises into Bucky’s hips that drag ragged moans from Bucky’s throat. Steve lets himself drown in the familiar twist of need and want on Bucky’s face, soaking up the tangled curls of dark hair framing his face and the sheen of sweat on dark tanned skin. 

He crushes their mouths together again and slows the needy piston of his hips to a gentle, steady roll of their bodies, curving his arms around Bucky’s back to hold him close, desperate to drink in and memorize every single detail of this moment. Bucky’s body is stronger and bigger than Steve remembers it being but his arms know the way to hold him close like they had never been parted, easily slipping into place where his waist narrows. 

“Gonna spend the rest of our lives loving you properly,” he adds quietly, grinding his cock inside of Bucky, pleased at the low sigh of pleasure it pulls from the man beneath him when he finds his prostate. Bucky mouths along Steve’s throat and sucks a dark bruise into the soft skin there, grinning wolfishly when Steve whines with pitiful delight. 

“Love you, too, Stevie. Only you since the moment we met,” he says, swiping his tongue across the swollen patch of flesh. Steve hitches their bodies close together and rocks his hips against the swell of Bucky’s ass, feeling the growing pressure in his belly that means he’s close. 

When Bucky comes it takes them both by surprise and Bucky’s entire body shudders with pleasure as sticky heat spreads between their bellies, clenching around Steve’s cock as he rides each crescendo of arousal with a rolling grind of bruised hips. Steve’s name echoes in the solitude of their bedroom, exhaled against sweat damp skin and branded like a tattoo on his soul. Steve’s orgasm is almost an afterthought compared to the surge of delight he feels when he sees Bucky’s face, smoothed over in the pleasant buzz of post coital bliss with kiss bruised lips formed around Steve’s name and eyes closed in comfortable contentment. 

They lay twined together in the aftermath with their heads on Steve’s pillow and noses slotted together, mouths a hair’s breadth apart as they simply drink in the warmth of one another, Steve’s hand rubbing up and down Bucky’s side while Bucky’s fingers splay across the center of his chest, memorizing the rhythmic beating of his heart. 

Neither of them particularly care to get up and clean the mess of sweat and come off just yet, as if they’re both afraid that breaking the moment will bring an end to the fragile new path they’ve started on. 

“Happy birthday, Stevie,” Bucky whispers and Steve reaches up to slip his fingers into the hopelessly sex tangled mess of Bucky’s dark hair, sliding their mouths together for a kiss that tastes like home. 

Steve never much cared to celebrate his birthday until Bucky made them worth looking forward to. Without Bucky they had merely become just another day of the year, where celebration turned to mourning and excitement became despair and loneliness. But for the first time in long time Steve thinks that, perhaps, he could learn how to enjoy them again.

**Author's Note:**

> If heartbroken noises about Steve and Bucky and incoherent tags about Sebastian Stan's beautiful face are your thing, you can find me on tumblr [here.](http://buckybarnnes.tumblr.com)


End file.
